Katrin looked down at the tome where it lay on her kitchen counter. Not particularly wanting to look at it, her eyes gravitated toward the bag of lunch and the stack of brochures from the Aunts. She blinked at them, wondering what they were doing there, then she jumped. "Cripes!" Spinning in a circle twice, she scanned the vicinity for a place to hide them before her father arrived. Explaining a trip to England to him was not precisely what she felt up to doing at the moment.

She settled for the drawer underneath her oven, nothing residing there save the lids for her pots and pans, and had just shoved it closed with her foot when her father appeared in the middle of the kitchen. "Hey, what kept you?" Katrin vaguely wondered if her attempt at casual was coming across as badly as his attempts at casual frequently appeared.

"Your mother, actually."

"Shame. I was hoping you were going to say it was Chris; it would have given me a reason to have it out with him."

"Since when have the two of you needed reasons?" he responded with a cheeky grin. Taking a quick glance around, he caught sight of the tome.

"Generally we don't, but it is always better to have a few back-ups just in case you and Mother decide to get involved." She watched as he walked over and flipped through a few of the pages with one gloved hand before returning it to the drawing on the last page. "Why are you all dolled up in your Official Goblin King duds? Surely visiting me does not merit such grandeur."

"There was a formal audience with some of my subjects this afternoon that lasted longer than expected. I did not bother taking the time to change them before meeting with your mother and Chris since I had already kept them waiting." For all his magical abilities, Jareth rarely changed clothes instantaneously, much prefering to dress himself the traditional way. He gestured at the page. "Is this the drawing?"

"Yes. But you have to look at it from a bizzare angle to actually see the picture. Here." She crossed over and turned the tome, pushing it with one finger. "See?"

Jareth's eyebrows flew up. "Indeed." Shaking his head with a sigh, he shut the tome and tucked it under one arm. With a flick of his free hand, a crystal appeared. He set it in her fruit bowl where it turned into an orange to match the lone grapefruit already there.

"Aw, it has a friend," she grinned.

"There are days, you precious thing, that I seriously wonder whose child you truly are. You surpass even your mother in your singularity. Give us a call if you need anything."

"You're lucky I'm yours, through and through, father dearest, otherwise I'd tell her you said that."

He chuckled and kissed her on the cheek. "She probably already knows. Stay out of trouble."

"Will do." She waved at him as he faded away. As she stood there, wondering what to do next, her stomach growled impatiently. "Oh, shush," she told it, even as she moved to unpack the food from the Aunts. Sticking something of everything on a plate and popping a carrot in her mouth, she retrieved her brochures from the drawer. Then, plate and travel information in hand, she went over to her sofa to eat her lunch.

When Bill arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron, he saw his father seated at the counter chatting with Tom. "Dad! When did you get here?"

"Oh, not too long ago," Arthur Weasley answered.

"Right, well let me go upstairs and put away my stuff, and I'll come down and join you."

"Actually, I'll just go up with you. No need to continue to monopolize Tom's time."

"Oh, don't you worry about that, Mr. Weasley," Tom said congenially as he polished some tankards. "Always enjoy a visit."

Father and son went upstairs and Arthur shut the door behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed as Bill set his bag on the table and dropped into the chair. "So, Dad," he began, "Ron sent me an owl."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, he shouldn't have done that, really."

"Well, I'd rather have been told about it than to come home and find the place deserted."

"It was more the fact that you were on a mission than that we were not planning on telling you. And at the time, things were happening so quickly, we really didn't have opportunity to plan."

Bill remembered the entirety of Ron's owl. "Dad, what went on, exactly?"

"Oh, just a disagreement over what really is important in life." At that, Arthur looked directly at his son. When Bill made to ask further, he shook his head ever so slightly. "Nothing worth worrying over now."

I take that to mean we aren't supposed to talk about it here, then, Bill thought. But when? Or, more precisely, where? "I was thinking I'd come over for dinner tomorrow evening after work."

"Your mother would love it if you would." He reached inside his robe and pulled out a small scrap of paper. "And before I forget, a mutual friend of ours asked that I give this to you. It's a reminder for something he doesn't want you forget."

Bill raised an eyebrow and opened it. Printed in narrow handwriting, it read simply:

Bill's other eyebrow popped up. "That should be easy enough," he said casually. "Did he say he wanted me to keep this?"

"Not particularly."

"Right then." Bill set fire to it with the tip of his wand and let it fall in the metal waste basket.

"Why don't you just come tonight? The Leaky Cauldron isn't busy as it is mid-week, and I'm sure Tom wouldn't mind you cancelling the room."

"I would, but I have to head over to Gringotts early tomorrow morning anyway to file my mission report. And I still have to actually do my mission report, which won't really get done if I'm spending the whole evening talking to everyone about... things. Plus, in case I am needed for further questioning before I head in, I had best stay where I told them I'd be."

"Well, that's true. Then how about I meet you here after work tomorrow; we can head over together."

Had Bill not been aware of the seriousness underneath the whole situation, he would have found the impersonal and slightly formal conversation he was having to be quite laughable. As it was, he could only reply, "Sounds like a plan then, Dad. Say hi to Mum for me."

"Of course, son." Arthur rose and, with a shrug, gave a quick wave before letting himself out of the room.

As the door closed, Bill sighed and shook his head. "Just when you think things can't get any more secretive and complicated, someone else adds another angle," he told the ashes in the waste basket. With another sigh, he turned in the chair and pulled out a roll of parchment to begin his report.